


While everyone's lost, the battle is won

by SecondStarOnTheLeft



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:43:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5615926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/pseuds/SecondStarOnTheLeft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ani has been taller than most any other human Jedi she has met for over four years, Master Obi-Wan and Master Windu excepted, but there are some who still call her little one. There are some who use it to remind her that she is not all that they are, to remind her of her humble beginnings as a warning not to rise above her station, and others who use it in a similar way, but mean it not as a warning but rather an exultation, that one of such lowly origins can rise so high, especially in such a particular arena as the Jedi Temple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While everyone's lost, the battle is won

Anakin doesn't think much of it, at first.

She lives a difficult life - she and Master Obi-Wan push themselves as hard as any other Jedi, her dubious, doubtful existence as  _saviour_ excusing them from nothing at all, and she spends more time on the battlefield than any of her friends, her martial prowess exceeding that which can be  _taught_ in the careful environs of the Temple - and so her body is irregular, just as any other human woman's would be in her position.

In truth, she has  _always_ been irregular. She asked a healer at the Temple about it, once, after a trying anatomy lecture taken with the younglings, because it had surprised her to know that her body was supposed to bleed every  _month._ She is lucky to see blood between her legs twice a year, and the healer had laughed when Ani said as much -  _most women would think your irregularity to be the true luck, little one._

Ani has been taller than most any other human Jedi she has met for over four years, Master Obi-Wan and Master Windu excepted, but there are some who still call her  _little one._ There are some who use it to remind her that she is not all that they are, to remind her of her humble beginnings as a warning not to rise above her station, and others who use it in a similar way, but mean it not as a warning but rather an exultation, that one of such lowly origins  _can_ rise so high, especially in such a particular arena as the Jedi Temple.

Ani's humble beginnings are the main reason she hadn't ever given much thought to the irregularity of her menstruation - her body didn't develop in quite the same way as those of her human peers, thanks to long years of sparse food and harsh conditions, and she has long become used to that. It does not worry her that the healers believe her more or less infertile, because it is so exceedingly rare for a Jedi to have children that the point is more or less moot, anyway.

If she and Padmé were to have children, via an anonymous donor ( _or Obi-Wan,_ a traitorous little voice that sounds very much like Padmé after one drink too many whispers from the back of Ani's mind, making her blush), it would be Padmé who carried them. Padmé has so much pure, beautiful love in her, untainted by the anger and possessiveness Ani so often feels, and it makes absolute sense that  _she_ carry their children.

And so, Anakin doesn't think much of it, at first.

 

* * *

 

"You seem terribly tired for someone who slept most of the way here," Obi-Wan says quietly, not looking up from preparing for flight - it never ceases to amaze Anakin that, of all the things they've faced, of all the triumphs under their belts, the thing that frightens Master Obi-Wan the most remains  _flying._

"We haven't been home in  _months,_ " Ani points out. "I'm not tired, just- weary. That's all."

She feels homesick, less for the Temple or for Coruscant than for Padmé, and their comfortable apartment, where Threepio dances attendance and Ani doesn't have to feel self-conscious about her false arm, or her strength in the Force, or the whispers that follow in her and Master Obi-Wan's wakes.

The whispers echo just loud enough that Master Yoda  _looks_ at her, sometimes, because everyone knows that if either of them were to fall in such a way, it would not be Obi-Wan. 

Padmé finds the whispers funny - she teases Ani about them, sometimes, when it is just them, when Padmé has found the softness in the hardened lines of Ani's body and heart, saying that perhaps she ought to be jealous, since Ani spends so much of her time at Obi-Wan's side.

Padmé had not always felt safe enough in Ani's love to tease, but they have grown together so much over the years that Anakin cannot imagine anything splitting them apart, not now. Anakin can almost  _see_ the Force, thanks to her innate sensitivity and her training, and her self in the Force and Padmé's are the nearest to a single being she has ever witnessed a pair become.

"If this goes well," Obi-Wan reminds her, looking up with a smile - he cut his hair, on Senator Organa's teasing advice, but is vain enough to have left an impractical fringe, and he looks at her from under it all the time, when he is being sincere and insincere both - "then we shall be home soon enough."

"And sent off to some other far-flung corner of the galaxy almost as soon as we reach the Temple," Ani points out, since that is what has happened over and over again these past long months. She has hardly  _seen_ Padmé in ages, and while they can snatch holochats here and there without great suspicion - they are just  _good friends,_ after all - it is not the same. Ani sometimes wakes up at night with the phantom of Padmé's weight against her chest, or the ghost Padmé's soft, full breasts pressing to Ani's own, which are not soft or full, but which Padmé assures her are beautiful all the same. 

"We  _are_ fighting a war, Anakin," Obi-Wan says, but his voice is gentle, and his hand is warm on her shoulder, a comfort in the cool shadows of the ship. "But hopefully, not for much longer. If this goes well-"

"We might end General Grievous' reign of terror," Ani finishes, mockingly pious, and is rewarded by one of Obi-Wan's ready smiles. 

She _does_ love Obi-Wan, although not as the whispers and rumours would have it. She has loved him since the day he helped her cut her hair into the appropriate style for a padawan of the Jedi Order and agreed to teach her, and had fancied herself half  _in_ love with him, during those first awkward months of puberty, when he had been so handsome and understanding, and she had been so utterly helpless in the face of her hormones, over which the meditation techniques supposed to help with mastery of oneself had only a small influence.

Then she had been reunited with Padmé, and Obi-Wan had never stood a chance.

"I know, Anakin," Obi-Wan says, voice heavier than his hand, "believe me, I do know."

He always does. 

 

* * *

 

Anakin breaks the Jedi Code in a meaningful way for the third time on board General Grievous' ship.

The first time had been to avenge her mother, and while she feels guilt over the brutality of her actions that night, she feels no regret - her mother had been all the good in her world, aside from pod racing, until Obi-Wan and Qui-Gonn had arrived on Tatooine, Padmé hidden with them. She had raised Ani alone, kept her as safe as possible from the slavers and their friends, and Ani had been unable to see how the galaxy could continue without her mother's goodness in it.

Padmé and, later, Obi-Wan had helped her see a way through the darkness, but she knows that she has some inclination that way. Away from the Order.

After all, what few Jedi Knights who are married are  _known_ mavericks, virtual exiles - Padmé had counselled Ani away from revealing the truth of their relationship to anyone, even to Obi-Wan, at least in the early days, when the secrecy and Anakin's devotion to it had seemed the only thing that reassured Padmé's of Ani's devotion to  _her._

A massacre, a marriage, a murder - Padmé and her clever, courtly friends on Naboo would make a rhyme of it, but for Anakin there is only the unfamiliar weight of Count Dooku's lightsaber against her flesh-and-bone fingers, the shine of his dark eyes forever dulled by her hand, the alien look of his body without head or hands, without  _life._

"It is well done, Anakin," the Chancellor assures her, one spidery hand on her shoulder. "Now come along, before General Grievous-"

"A moment, sir," she says, crossing the great chamber to where Obi-Wan is lying in three bounding steps, fear for him driving her to be quicker, stronger than she might be with only the thrill of battle buzzing in her ears. "He seems mostly unharmed-"

"Leave him," the Chancellor snaps. "There isn't time."

"I cannot abandon my master," Anakin says firmly, although she worries the same - if she is slowed by the burden of Obi-Wan's weight as well as the Chancellor's age, if she is carrying Obi-Wan and therefore unable to wield her lightsaber, how can she get home to Padmé? How can she bring the Chancellor to safety, bring Grievous to his doom?

Even if she could bring Grievous to his doom without Obi-Wan, if she could have  _faith_ in herself to do so, as she had not had faith in approaching Dooku without her master (the pain along the juncture of flesh and mechanics flared, phantom and real as it always was), would it be the proper thing to do? Taking Dooku's head had not, she knew that, because for all that he had done, he  _had_ been unarmed, and her prisoner.

"I will carry him," she said firmly, hoisting Obi-Wan over her shoulders and staring down the Chancellor's objections. "He is my master, and I will not leave him here to die."

 

* * *

 

"I was told," Grievous hacks, right in Ani's face, "that the great Anakin Skywalker was a woman."

Anakin has always been sensitive of her looks - if she were a man, she would be handsome, but as a woman, she is too tall, too lean, too broad in the shoulders and chest, and flat-flat-flat all over, the very opposite of Padmé's softness and fullness. Even Ani's face is too sharp, angles and planes where there ought to be a plump curve or two, all of it combining with her oh-so-androgynous name to make her a laughing stock, in certain company.

"I see only a little man," Grievous coughs, and Ani forces herself to meet his gaze.

"General Grievous," she says in return, unable to keep her nose from wrinkling at the fetid stench of his breath. "You're shorter than I expected."

Obi-Wan's admonition is tempered by the half-hidden smile Ani catches on the corner of his mouth, and by the laughter she shocks out of him during the chaos that follows.

The Chancellor is not quite so amused by their  _happy landing_ as Ani's master, but that doesn't matter - she will apologise to him later, and Obi-Wan's open amusement is a rare gift, one Ani is always thrilled to share in.

* * *

 

_Poster-girl for the Order._

Is that truly how people regard her? She knows that there were some within the Temple who see her as... Not undeserving, per se, but an anomaly for more than her unprecedented midichlorian count. Who else has enjoyed such favour, has been welcomed into the Order so late? Who else has been given commands and councils at such a young age, after so little training?

Ani is not so vain as to presume that she is pretty enough for such an  _assignment_ \- all the time she spends at the Senate is due to her  _friendship_ with Padmé, or the Chancellor's interest in her progress and the actual friendship she shares with him. It is not official work, and even if the Council  _does_ sometimes send along messages for the Chancellor or their allies within the Senate, if Obi-Wan mentions that she is bound for the Senate for a visit with one of her friends, well, that is only practicality, surely?

She feels unwell enough without the weight of worry bearing her down, her stomach uneasy and the back of her neck clammy, but she smiles for Senator Organa all the same, and has just enough of herself extended to sense Padmé, waiting for her behind a pillar.

They could reunite in Padmé's office without any questions being asked - they are  _such good friends,_ after all - but this feels less like business, more like love. Padmé laughs when Ani gathers her close, pressing her nose into the notch of Ani's collarbone and overflowing with such perfect love and joy that for a moment, Ani can't breathe.

"I've missed you," Padmé whispers, tipping right up onto her toes for a kiss, which lingers longer than it should, given how exposed they are here. "Oh, Ani, it's been so  _long_ -"

"I'm here now," Ani promises her, ducking in for another kiss, sweeter than anything she's ever tasted before. "And we shouldn't be sent out on a new assignment for a few weeks, at least, Master Obi-Wan is sure the Council will give us some time to rest."

Padmé nestles close into Ani's arms, soft and strong and warm in ways Ani has never been, will never be, and Anakin cannot understand how anyone could say that what they share is wrong, Code or no Code.

 

* * *

 

 

The dreams are not what wake her, although they should be - children, children who look like Anakin's mother and who fade before she can reach them, and then shrouds so small they break her heart.

Instead, it is Padmé, her hair loose and curling around her pale face, over her bare shoulders, her eyes puffy and bleary with sleep. She is always beautiful, but in this moment, with the grief of that dream (that  _vision_ ) lingering heavy in Ani's heart, Padmé has never been lovelier.

"Bad dreams," is all she manages, before wrapping her too-long self around Padmé and holding on as tight as she can without hurting her wife. "Terrible dreams."

Ani knows how to tell the difference between a dream and a vision, though. She knows that those children,  _her_ children, are in danger, and she must save them. She  _must._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "All These Things That I've Done," by the Killers.


End file.
